


Break the Chains of Fear

by justanothermaniac



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Brutal Murder, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 21:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: His piercing gaze bores right into Jeremiah's soul, cracking it open and exposing everything he tries to hide. Jeremiah sucks in a breath, realizing what he's doing, realizing what's going to happen.His emotions are laid bare before his uncle, his humiliation, his insecurity, his fear. He's a child again, cowering away from his uncle's rumbling voice as it yells at him to stop crying.





	Break the Chains of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I gotta be honest with you guys, this was initially planned to be a part of another story, where I basically portray the twins' past, present and future in Gotham as I imagine it in my Wholesome AU. It's just...patience is a virtue I do not possess and I NEEDED to post this as an individual piece, even though it's probably a stupid move but AHHHH this is one of those stories that just really, really own my heart. Of course all my fics are my babies but this one is really special to me.
> 
> See, I love that despite all their similarities, their insanity is displayed in a completely different way. Like it was established in the show, Jerome is a chainsaw whereas Jeremiah is a scalpel. He's cool and calculated but you can just see there's still emotion beneath the indifference which he desperately tries to push down, at least in season four (season five really brings out the drama queen in him, which I love too). I kinda wanted to get into that, which is why that "beast" inside of him doesn't break free in the end. Jeremiah deems it unnecessary because emotions are messy and make him lose focus, like they (the beast) did in the past. I really hope that came across, if not, please call me out on my bullshit in the comments.
> 
> Anyway, I don't wanna babble too much, that ain't why you guys are here. Mind the tags please, this gets pretty graphic but I hope you guys enjoy it! Much love to all of you! 💙💙💙
> 
> \- jam

Jeremiah stirs awake when he doesn't feel the familiar warmth behind him. "Jerome?", he asks groggily, reaching behind himself but finding the spot empty. He sits up and rubs his eyes. There's pain in his chest and suddenly, a jolt of of anger, of relentless _fury_ even but something else entirely as well. The slightest smidge of fear.

Fury and fear.

Jeremiah jumps off the bed and grabs his glasses, his heart beating hard and fast. He has to find Jerome.

He darts out of their room and then their trailer, blindly stumbling through the darkness, the cold of the night biting at his face but he doesn't care, his heart is pulling him where he needs to be because the emotions get stronger as he gets closer.

_I need to find Jerome._

He does find Jerome. He sees the lights of the chuck wagon and his stomach clenches in cold fear. Regardless, he darts towards the door and rips it open, mentally preparing for what he is about to witness, despite knowing that it won't help.

Jerome is pinned to the wall by Uncle Zack. His lower lip is bleeding and already starting to swell. He's shaking and Jeremiah knows there are many new bruises hidden beneath his clothes. 

Jeremiah feels his skin crawl. His heart aches for his twin but he can't move. He can't _move._ He watches with wide eyes when Uncle Zack grabs a fistful of Jerome's hair to yank his head back and he gasps, drawing attention to himself.

Jerome sees him first and his face goes pale. Jeremiah feels the need to apologize, he always feels the need to apologize to his brother but he can't even bring his mouth to work. When Uncle Zack turns his head, he grunts before turning back to Jerome. "Jeremiah, go back to the trailer." His voice is gentle and it makes him want to retch. He stays put. Uncle Zack speaks with more emphasis now. "Ya ever known me to be patient, kid? Back to the trailer, _now."_

Jeremiah is looking only at Jerome, who's staring at him with a face that is entirely too blank. "Miah", he presses out, trying his hardest to keep his tone of voice warm and soothing. It hurts. "Back to the trailer. I'll be there in a few."

Jeremiah wants to listen, wants to hide like he always does and cling to Jerome when he gets back, then patch him up, apologize, cry and cling to him again. But his body won't move, not even away and definitely not forward. There's nowhere he can go.

Their uncle has already turned back to Jerome, tightening the grip in his hair. "You're ruining everything, you little shit", he spews out, his voice dripping with malice, "You're ruining everything for _him."_

 _No. Stop. Liar, you're LYING._ Jeremiah wants to say it, wants to scream it for the whole circus, the whole city, the whole _world_ to hear that Uncle Zack is lying because how can Jerome ruin everything for Jeremiah if Jerome _is_ his everything?

Jerome laughs and Jeremiah wants to cry. "Well, ya see, Unc", he croaks and Jeremiah silently begs him to stop talking. "It's not really that much of a challenge to _ruin_ anything when you're forced to live in a shithole like this." His voice is like a snake's hiss and Jeremiah is shaking. Jerome always has to provoke. Why does he _always_ have to provoke?

"You're an ungrateful little bastard." Uncle Zack's voice cuts through the air like a blade. "Lila should've put ya six feet under when she still had the chance."

Jeremiah thinks he might throw up at the suggestion and Jerome's reaction doesn't make it better. His cackle sends a shiver down Jeremiah's spine.

"Just you wait until I put _her_ six feet under."

Jeremiah wants to scream at him to shut up _shutupshutupshutup._ But Jerome never shuts up, _he just never shuts up._

"And you'll follow right after, Uncle Zack. Gonna be a nice little family funeral. Although, well..." He giggles. "Not actually a funeral. It's not like anyone would care about two shitstains less in this wor-!"

Jerome's words dissolve into a gurgle when Uncle Zack's hands suddenly curl around his throat. Jeremiah feels a jolt through his body, his own throat closing up. _N_ _o no no no no no._

Uncle Zack leans closer, his nose almost touching Jerome's. "I'm gonna choke the life outta ya, fuckin' psycho."

The older twin tries to gasp for air, his face is turning red and Jeremiah _sees_ red. His body tenses up and there's some brewing inside, something bigger than Jeremiah himself, bigger, angrier, _stronger._ He feels it tighten within his chest before it breaks, clawing it's way out of his heart, snarling.

He spots the knife on the counter. Another jolt and his fingers close around the handle before he can think about it. _"Let him go!"_

His voice is unusually steady, it almost shocks him. It certainly shocks Uncle Zack because he turns his head. There's a flash of surprise on his face and he abruptly lets go of Jerome. He sinks to the floor, gasping and sputtering, holding his throat. Jeremiah glances at him quickly before looking back at Uncle Zack.

His piercing gaze bores right into Jeremiah's soul, cracking it open and exposing everything he tries to hide. Jeremiah sucks in a breath, realizing what he's doing, realizing what's going to happen.

_He is going to kill me for this._

The confidence he felt just a moment ago is gone. The beast has gone back to sleep, leaving Jeremiah on his own. Ice cold fear creeps into his bones and has him paralyzed, his grip around the knife tightening unconsciously. 

His uncle seems _massive_ as he approaches Jeremiah, a calm expression on his face. "Ya really gonna use that thing on me?", he asks, sounding so _amused_ that Jeremiah can feel his cheeks heat up. His emotions are laid bare before his uncle, his humiliation, his insecurity, his fear. He's a child again, cowering away from his uncle's rumbling voice as it yells at him to stop crying.

"Come on, nephew. You're not that kinda kid." Uncle Zack points behind him. _"He_ might but not you."

Jerome is still on the floor, holding his throat with one hand while bracing himself with the other but he's looking at them, looking at Jeremiah while still breathing heavily. There's a spark in his eyes Jeremiah rarely sees. He wants to keep it there permanently.

Jerome looks proud. _Proud of Jeremiah._

Jeremiah's chest swells but he can't dwell on it for too long. Uncle Zack has lifted an arm, reaching out as he comes closer. Jeremiah gasps and takes a tiny step back out of reflex, wincing afterwards.

Uncle Zack raises an eyebrow and smirks. Jeremiah wants to plunge the knife into his own chest. _Stupid coward pathetic die die die die die._

"Be a good boy and gimme that knife", Uncle Zack demands in a soft tone that promises pain. Jeremiah is shaking in earnest now, searching for Jerome's gaze again. The spark is still there but underneath, there's concern. He can see how tense Jerome is, ready to attack if he has to. Jeremiah's heart aches.

_I want to be strong. Just once I want to be strong for you._

"Jeremiah. Don't make me angry." Uncle Zack is so close, _too close._ Jeremiah's hand is shaking so hard that he has trouble not dropping the knife. "Give. Me. The. Knife", Uncle Zack hisses, staring Jeremiah down with the intensity of a freight train. The younger twin feels like he's shrinking.

He looks at Jerome again and thinks his heart stops for a moment when something flashes in his face. It's not even a second but Jeremiah sees it.

_Disappointment._

Jeremiah's chest tightens, like his heart is being strangled by his own entrails. He barely registers his uncle easily pulling the knife from his grasp. "Very good."

A numbing pain shoots through his cheek and his glasses are knocked from his face as his head snaps to the side. He stumbles, barely able to steady himself against the counter. Uncle Zack has backhanded him.

"Consider that a warning", he snarls, tossing the knife aside where it drops to the floor with a mocking clank. "Another stunt like this and ya won't be able to walk outta here." Jeremiah grasps the edge of the counter, his eyes closed tightly. He refuses to let the tears fall. "Both of you, scram", he hears Uncle Zack say several moments before someone gently grabs him by the shoulders.

"Miah, c'mon."

Jerome's voice sounds too raspy. It makes Jeremiah flinch. He lets himself be guided out of the wagon, gaze cast downward. He can't look at Jerome.

He'll see the disappointment. _He is a disappointment_. 

"Miah."

They stopped walking. Jeremiah feels Jerome's hands on his cheeks and bats them away. He can't take it. He can't take his brother's comforting touch. He doesn't deserve it. "Jeremiah, look at me." He tries again but Jeremiah refuses. When Jerome still won't give in, Jeremiah shoves him away.

 _"Leave me alone,"_ he wants to hiss but it comes out as a shaky whisper. Jerome approaches him again and he shoves him harder.

"Jeremiah", Jerome says in a demanding tone but the younger twin shakes his head.

He feels arms around him and fights against the hold, tries to shove at his brother's chest and face, tries his hardest to get away. "Leave me alone, don't touch me, don't touch me, _don't touch me."_

Jerome won't have it, he tightens his hold. "Miah", he whispers softly, adding: "Baby brother."

Jeremiah cracks. He finds himself clinging to Jerome as soon as the nickname left his mouth and cries against his brother's shoulder, his heart aching as he yet again let Jerome down.

_I always let Jerome down._

Jerome holds him tight, lets him cry and shushes him, whispering soothing words in his ear, _it's okay, I'm okay, you're okay. Breathe, Miah, breathe._ He nuzzles Jeremiah's hair, running a hand up and down his back. He doesn't mention what happened.

He doesn't need to. Jeremiah won't forget this. He feels like he's decaying inside, Uncle Zack's grin mocking him behind his closed eyes, _pathetic, weak, useless._ Jerome's face appears next to his and this look will haunt Jeremiah until the day he dies.

Disappointment.

_Disappointment._

* * *

_The guilt builds over the years but Jeremiah's hands are tied. It's Jerome who saves them, it's Jerome who puts an end to it._

_Nobody understands. They make Jerome out to be the villain. They pretend to care but if they did, they wouldn't have locked him away. They would've helped them when they still needed it._

_It's difficult with Jerome always on the run. He comes to see Jeremiah in his tiny apartment as often as he can. He never takes Jeremiah with him when he leaves. It's too dangerous, he says. Jeremiah accepts it. He has to._

_Jerome never tells him anything. Gordon and Bullock always come to Jeremiah first when Jerome wreaks havoc. If he doesn't know anything, they can't make him tell._

_Jeremiah feels as useless as ever._

_Until Jerome breaks out of Arkham again._

_Jeremiah hears about it on the news. Usually Jerome always comes to see him first thing but not this time. As he sits on his couch staring at the TV, where his beloved brother's marred face is displayed, Jeremiah suddenly feels his chest burn hot with fury._

_Fury and fear._

_Jeremiah knows where Jerome went._

_He follows._

* * *

Jerome has been waiting for him. Jeremiah realizes it as soon as he dashes through the door, panting and eyes wide. "What are you doing? Aside from my apartment, this is the first place they'll look for you!" 

His brother is uncharacteristically calm. Uncle Zack is on his knees before him and Jeremiah's body tenses up in fear. But their uncle doesn't move, doesn't shout.

He's afraid. For the first time in his life, Jeremiah sees Uncle Zack being afraid.

But Jeremiah supposes he should be. After all, Jerome is pointing a gun at his head. "Already did. You know I was always good at hide 'n seek." He holds out his other hand and beckons Jeremiah to come closer.

Jeremiah gulps. He thinks he won't be able to move. But when his twin whispers his name, something inside him stirs. He hasn't felt it in a long time. He doesn't remember what it is. 

He comes to a halt next to Jerome, looking only at him. There's a spark in his eyes that makes Jeremiah shiver. It's the same spark he saw back then, the same spark that doomed Jeremiah to live a life clouded by guilt and shame.

Because Jeremiah turned it into disappointment.

He gulps and drops his gaze to the floor. He can't bare to look any longer. But Jerome has other ideas, he grasps Jeremiah's chin and forces his head back up. "This is your chance."

Jeremiah blinks in confusion. Jerome moves his hand to cup his cheek. "You know what I'm referring to", he whispers, his thumb rubbing over the smooth skin of his brother's cheek. "It's been eating away at your soul for ten years and I couldn't stop it. But you can do it yourself now."

"What are you talking about?", Jeremiah whispers, his stomach twisting. He knows what Jerome is talking about. _He knows._

"You hate yourself because you think you let me down." That makes Jeremiah wince. Jerome presses their foreheads together, their hot breaths mingling. Jeremiah shouldn't be surprised that he knows. Jerome could always read him like a book. "It's my fault because I never brought it up. We were fifteen. I thought it was for the best. I thought talking about it would make it worse for ya. I thought you wanted to forget."

When Jeremiah squeezes his eyes shut, Jerome slides his hand in his hair, keeping him in place. Preventing him from running away. "I was wrong. I realized that some time ago. But I also realized that there is absolutely nothing I can do. You're the only one who can. But you needed time. You're not like me. And you don't have to be."

Jeremiah has trouble breathing. His brother's words are unlike anything he's ever heard him say. For the first time in their lives, Jerome seems desperate. Desperate for Jeremiah to believe him.

Jeremiah's heart clenches painfully. The guilt is hitting him like a bus. He put Jerome through this. Because he's just _not strong enough_. 

The grip in Jeremiah's hair tightens as if Jerome read his thoughts. He probably did. "Be yourself, Miah. Be who I _know_ you are. You _are_ strong. You've always been strong. You just weren't ready to let go yet." He slowly pulls away from the younger twin and lifts his other hand. 

Jeremiah's gaze drops to the gun his twin is holding out to him, then, finally, to Uncle Zack. He takes in his wide, bloodshot eyes, the pale face, the shaking of his body.

He looks nothing like the monster he is. 

It feels like a curtain is being lifted. Jeremiah blinks. He looks at the gun again but hesitates. Something begins to stir within Jeremiah's chest, the same thing that did before and Jeremiah finally remembers. It's something bigger. Angrier. Stronger.

The beast is awakening from its yearlong slumber.

Jeremiah instinctively turns his head towards the counter. He spots the knife block. His fingers twitch.

He feels Jerome's emotions mixing with his own. Slowly building understanding, emerging into excitement. "Do it", he whispers right next to Jeremiah's ear. The younger twin closes his eyes at the familiar warmth, exhales slowly when his brother's chin comes to rest on his shoulder. "Finish what you started all those years ago. Free yourself from that guilt you were never supposed to feel. You're ready now, Miah. You're _ready."_

Jeremiah starts walking towards the counter. There's a rumbling within his chest, growing louder with every step.

"Wait..!" Uncle Zack seems to be catching on to what's about to happen. Jeremiah reaches out, his fingers closing around the handle of the largest knife he sees. "Don't...Jeremiah, yo-you can't..!"

He sounds so young. His voice is more tremor than sound and Jeremiah wonders why he didn't realize it before. All those years Uncle Zack tormented Jerome, tormented both of them, it was solely due to one reason.

Fear.

Uncle Zack knew what they were capable of then and he knew what they'd be capable of when they're older. What they're capable of now. He had to make himself the one in control, the one who seems invincible, cruel, dangerous.

How the tables have turned. "Jerome", he whispers, staring at his own reflection in the blade. His eyes are cold. His face is blank. He looks nothing like himself. He knows it should terrify him but he feels nothing. "Shoot him in the knees for me, please."

Without even a second of delay, Jeremiah hears two gunshots, followed by the desperate cries of a dying pig. He turns and approaches his brother and uncle.

Jerome looks absolutely intrigued. His eyes are blown wide and he's breathing audibly. Jeremiah reaches up with his free hand to cup his cheek, run a thumb over the damaged skin. He's still so beautiful. 

Jerome rests his hand atop of his own, turning his head to press a kiss to his wrist. He doesn't say another word. He doesn't need to.

Jeremiah is the one in control now. 

He drops his hand and turns back to their uncle, cowering on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. Jeremiah kicks him in the face so he uncurls and goes to straddle him. He curls a hand in the greasy hair and yanks his head back, the blade flashing as he holds it to Uncle Zack's throat.

He stops squirming immediately, squinting up at Jeremiah in absolute horror. Jeremiah waits. Thinks. He wants to savor this. He needs to do it just right. This is the only chance he has.

"Jeremiah..!", Uncle Zack croaks, his pupils darting around widely. He seems to be trying to get a look at the blade. "Jeremiah, please..! You're...you're not...like this..! You're good!" He lifts a trembling hand towards Jeremiah's cheek. "Not...not like that _monster!"_

The blade flashes once more when Jeremiah bores it through Uncle Zack's hand. He screams and tries to jerk his hand away but Jeremiah forces it forward, the blade sinking even deeper into the flesh, it's bloody tip connecting with the floor as he pins Uncle Zack to the ground. "Don't call him that."

Jeremiah's voice is calm and steady but the beast is raging. "You're the monster. And Lila was a monster too." He twists the knife, his uncle's pathetic cry prompting the beast inside him to purr. "She got what she deserved. And you will too. I'll make sure of it."

Jeremiah rips the knife out. He studies it, watches crimson drops stain the tiles beneath them. "It's really absurd, Uncle Zack", he mutters, still not looking at him, "that after everything you've done to Jerome, you possess the nerve to call him a _monster._ Do you know what he really is?"

His gaze drops to his uncle's face again. He lifts the blade and slowly runs it down his cheek, cleaning the blood off with his uncle's skin and beard. He shivers and whimpers like a little boy. He wonders if _they_ ever sounded this pathetic. He doubts it. "He's my world."

His chest swells with incredible warmth and affection and he knows it belongs to Jerome. "He's my world and I'm his world."

"And my universe", he hears his twin whisper, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth when he does. It all seems so clear to him now. So easy. What was he ever afraid of? 

Jeremiah tilts his head as he regards his uncle, whose face is drained of any color except for the bloody streak on his right cheek that Jeremiah left with the knife. "What you did to Jerome", he says, unconsciously lifting the knife to his lips, nipping at the tip, tasting the memory of Uncle Zack's blood. He doesn't notice how the body beneath him shudders at the action. "What you did to Jerome will haunt me for the rest of my life. Because no matter how this is going to end, I'll never be able to undo it. I'll never be able to take that pain from him. I'll remember every time I see the scars on his chest and back. Every time I look at..."

He lifts the hand grasping the knife, scar tissue straining the skin. He can still feel the boiling soup making his flesh fizzle. The scar on Jerome's hand looks different but they're the same essentially. Jeremiah did it so they would match. Jeremiah did it as a desperate attempt to make it up to his brother.

"For every time you hurt him", Jeremiah whispers, looking down at his uncle's terrified face, "I will plunge this knife into you."

He hears Jerome suck in a breath and feels his anticipation in the way the hairs on the back of his neck perk up. Jeremiah himself is oddly calm. The beast within wants to burst through but Jeremiah pushes it down. He doesn't need it. He can do this on his own. He wants to.

Lifting the knife high above his head, Jeremiah says: "When we were three and you kicked him down the trailer stairs."

The knife rips through clothes and flesh, right into Uncle Zack's shoulder. He screams and squirms, like a worm that's trapped under a birds claws.

Pathetic.

Satisfying.

Jeremiah pulls it out and plunges it into the other shoulder. "Four. You dragged him around the circus by his hair."

He twists the blade. "Four. You belted him for stealing bread because we didn't eat in two days."

 _Twist._ "Four. One of your friends tried to pour beer down my throat and Jerome wanted to shield me. You beat and kicked him until he threw up blood."

Jeremiah rips the knife out again. Uncle Zack is a crying mess beneath him, blood oozing out of the wounds on his shoulders, his face contorted into a grimace of complete and utter agony.

It's not enough. It won't ever be enough.

Jeremiah brings the knife down once more, this time into the flesh of his uncle's belly. And then again. And again. And again. "You aren't fat enough for me to stab you for every single time you laid hands on my brother", Jeremiah whispers while stabbing Uncle Zack's stomach over and over again, his face and glasses sprinkled with red dots, his hands dripping with crimson liquid. "So I'll have to rethink my strategy. These are for all the times you beat him unconscious before we were ten."

He keeps stabbing the same spots, making the wounds wider and deeper, ripping his uncle's body open like a child might do with a Christmas present. Jeremiah wouldn't know.

Uncle Zack isn't screaming anymore. He's gurgling, his voice a mere memory of the impact it once had.

Lila was a siren, Uncle Zack was a jackhammer. Now, he's a clogged drain.

Jeremiah grasps the knife firmly, hovering above his uncle's throat, blood dripping on the white skin. "You're going to listen to this. You're going to remember all the things you did that resulted in you dying like you lived. Filthy and without any dignity whatsoever."

He grabs Uncle Zack by the jaw to keep their gazes locked. "You beat Jerome, you burnt Jerome, you choked Jerome. You covered his body in scars. You chipped away at his soul every single day and if anything he has done displeases or scares you, blame yourself."

Uncle Zack's eyes are blinking up at him rapidly. He won't be conscious much longer. But Jeremiah isn't finished yet. He's going to break his uncle. He's going to break him into a thousand pieces before sending him to hell.

Jeremiah's voice is as cold as ice. He didn't know he could sound like that. He thinks Uncle Zack winces because of it but it might just be the countless stab wounds. Jeremiah doesn't particularly care. "You are responsible for all of it. You are responsible for every death. You are responsible for Lila's death."

Now _that_ definitely gets him a reaction. Uncle Zack sucks in a shuddering breath and jerks against Jeremiah's grip as if trying to shake his head. Lila is the one person Uncle Zack loved, the one person he would've done anything for. If Zachary Trumble and Jerome Valeska have one thing in common, it's their love for their younger siblings. 

Jeremiah is counting on it. He tightens his grip on Uncle Zack's jaw and leans down close, their noses almost touching. He can smell his uncle's foul breath coming out in rapid gasps. "You killed your baby sister. You drove that hatchet into her over and over again, you made her scream and cry and beg. You murdered her. You murdered Lila."

It's a beautiful sight, a beautiful symphony. Uncle Zack is shaking, his jaw is lax as he desperately tries to breathe and his body is convulsing, the puddle of blood beneath him growing larger by the second.

Jeremiah lets himself smile. "It's the last thought you'll ever have", he whispers, lifting the knife again. "You can beg for her forgiveness in hell. Goodbye, Uncle Zack."

He rams the knife into his uncle's throat, once, twice, three times. His body spasms and he gurgles as he's drowning in his own blood but Jeremiah doesn't stop. He doesn't simply cut his uncle's head of, he _rips_ it off, driving the blade into Uncle Zack's flesh again and again, severing the veins that hold it all together. 

Uncle Zack is long dead when Jeremiah finally stops. He sits back, still straddling the mutilated body. He drops the knife, the dull clank stirring another memory, a memory that seems very distant now. It's a memory of another time, another life.

Another Jeremiah. 

"Holy Mother of FUCK." Jerome's voice breaks the silence. He sounds absolutely in awe and starts laughing, the giddiness bubbling in Jeremiah's own chest. He can't bring himself to react. "That...was absolutely _amazing._ Boy, ya really avenged me there, baby brother. WOW."

Jeremiah hears him approach, feels him crouch down next to him, his hand appearing in his periphery when he reaches for Uncle Zack's severed head. "I've never been more proud of you than in this very moment! Aaand I'm also lowkey turned on, but let's not focus on that."

He giggles and Jeremiah is certain he's currently making their uncle do silly faces. He feels very, very tired all of a sudden. His body is trembling and he knows it's because of the adrenaline rush. But it seems wrong. It didn't feel like a rush at all. In fact, Jeremiah thinks he's never been in such a clear state of mind before.

He blinks slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. They're covered in blood. Jeremiah slowly flexes his fingers. It feels warm and sticky. And oddly...pleasant. _This is Uncle Zack's blood,_ he thinks, not sure where exactly the thought came from. Of course it's Uncle Zack's blood. Jeremiah murdered him. Jeremiah murdered Uncle Zack. 

_I murdered Uncle Zack._

"Miah? Ya with me?" Jerome's voice sounds slightly concerned now. Jeremiah closes his eyes and lets himself fall to the side, into Jerome's unsuspecting arms. He reacts immediately regardless, enveloping his brother in his warmth. "Whoa, easy, strawberry brain. Easy."

Jeremiah buries his face in Jerome's neck. He smells blood. Why does Jerome smell like blood? He realizes his face feels sticky too. It's not Jerome who smells like blood, it's him. He wonders if Jerome smells the strawberries regardless, or if he used the nickname out of habit. "I want to leave", he mutters into his brother's skin, grasping the front of his shirt. "Please, Jerome."

They shift and Jeremiah lets his twin pull him to his feet. "Practically out the door already", he says softly. His fingers grasp Jeremiah's chin to make their gazes meet. The younger twin blinks up at him tiredly and feels a sudden jolt shoot through his body.

The spark is back and it shines brighter than ever before. _I did it. I made Jerome proud._

Something inside him collapses. Jeremiah tears up, his bottom lip starts to tremble and his legs are threatening to give out under him. He feels Jerome's forehead press against his and Jerome's arms around his waist, keeping him steady on his feet. Keeping him safe. _Safe._

"I'm gonna take this opportunity to tell ya that you look absolutely gorgeous with blood on your face", Jerome murmurs and despite everything, Jeremiah's chest bubbles with laughter, interrupted by the occasional sob. But he is genuinely laughing and laughs even louder when Jerome chimes in, loud and hysterical and _happy._

He wraps his arms around his twin's neck, his heart skipping a beat when he presses a sweet peck to his nose. "How's a long, hot shower sound, baby bro?", he asks, nuzzling his nose against Jeremiah's.

He sniffles, not bothering to wipe his tears away because he's only going to smear the blood anyway. "Sounds perfect", he whispers, a pleasant shiver running down his spine when Jerome's lips find his own.

Lila is gone. Zack is gone. They're free.

Jeremiah is free. 


End file.
